(Aki's POV)
The first thing I noticed that morning was the silence. Not the usual Academy bustle, not the whispers from students in the hallways—just emptiness. I sat up in my bed and rubbed my eyes, hoping I was imagining it.
Then I saw the diary.
It lay on the desk, closed, perfectly ordinary. My stomach tightened. I reached for it.
"Nothing."
No glowing letters, no warnings, no instructions. Not a single word.
"What…?" I muttered, flipping the pages desperately. Blank. Every single one.
Whiskerdoom, who had been perched lazily on the windowsill, yawned and stretched. "Ah, finally. The diary gives up. It knows you're useless without guidance."
"Shut up!" I snapped, though my voice wavered. "It… it was always supposed to guide me. Always!"
He tilted his head, amber eyes gleaming with amusement. "Well, genius, looks like the game decided you need real choices. Scary, huh?"
I groaned and leaned back in the chair. My hands shook slightly. I had survived assassinations, duels, and the Princess's strange smiles—but without the diary, I was… nothing.
"Nothing?" Whiskerdoom repeated. "You're Riel Arkwood, the villain everyone loves to hate. Surely you can handle a few blank pages?"
I narrowed my eyes. "You don't get it. The diary predicted every trap, every step, every single death flag. I relied on it! Now… now I'm flying blind!"
He hopped onto the desk and batted at the empty pages. "Flying blind is called life, darling. You survived because of smarts, not magic paper."
I clenched my fists. He was right. I had survived because I paid attention, because I thought ahead. But the diary… it had always been my safety net. My excuse for being clever. And now?
Now there was no excuse.
The sound of the library doors opening made me jump. Eren stepped in, eyes narrowed, gaze sharp.
"Morning, Riel," he said cautiously. "Everything… okay?"
I waved at the diary. "Does this look okay to you?"
He frowned. "That's the diary?"
"Yeah. Blank," I said, my voice tight. "Completely blank."
Eren stepped closer, concern in his expression. "So… the guidance is gone. You're on your own?"
"Exactly," I muttered. "On my own."
He leaned against the desk, studying me. "Then… I guess this is when you decide who you really are."
I froze. His words cut deeper than any sword or curse. The diary had made me the villain in name, the survivor by chance—but Eren was right. Without its guidance, the real choice belonged to me.
I closed the diary with a snap, my heartbeat loud in my ears. "Fine. If the world wants me to play the villain, I'll decide how to play it."
Whiskerdoom purred softly. "Finally! About time you realized life isn't a game you can read instructions for."
I stared at the blank pages. They were terrifying. They were liberating. They were my new reality.
And for the first time, I felt it: the weight of choices that could not be unmade.
I was no longer following the story.
The story was following me.